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Something Wicked This Way Comes
Rplog-icon Who: Quentin Quire, Wicked, Doug Ramsey, Illyana Rasputina
Where: Xavier's Institute
When: 04/09/2014
Tone: Social
What: Doug and Illyana run into Kid Omega and Wicked.

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The evening hours begin to tick away and dusk starts to darken the sky, but even so, there's still enough light to clearly see everything upon the rear grounds. Because of this, the bright circular stepping disk is quite easily seen as it opens and deposits a young blonde woman and her many /many/ shopping bag upon the grounds.

It's hard to say why she doesn't simply teleport directly to her room, but she doesn't, and perhaps it's because a certain blond boy is roaming around the rear grounds as well.

As soon as her blue eyes land upon Douglas, she can't help but smile like the cat who caught the canary. Raising her voice just enough to be heard, she says, "Hey Doug. How're things?" That's a nice innocent question coming from her, isn't it?


That smile had always been of such mixed messages. For whatever reason, Doug could never quite read Illyana's body language, simply because her moods and actions were mercurical.

Doug Ramsey had been sitting near the lounge close to the rear grounds, near the windows, poking away at his tablet when the Russian sorceress makes her appearance. Eyeing the bags suspiciously, the young blond mutant arches an eyebrow, clearly communicating his unwillingness to do -that-. It'd been a long time since he'd been required to play pack mule, and so Doug just looks at Illyana. "I hope that you weren't expecting me to carry all that to your room, especially since we know you could have gone straight there yourself. So I hope there's something for me, because there is no way I am going to carry all that upstairs."

Then again, lately, there'd been a bit of nostalgia going around, and Doug quirks a smile. Maybe, just maybe, he could be persuaded...


At Doug's resistance to playing pack mule, Illyana can only frown a moment, before she smiles again. An even worse smile than her first expression.

"Why Douglas, of course there's something in it for you." She says as she picks up a back and proffers it to him, "If you carry these bags, all of these bags I should say, to my room I'll make certain I never send you on a one way trip to Limbo. I think that's a fair trade, don't you?"

Then she smirks toward her former teammate, "Oh come on Doug, get over here and help. You know you want to. It'll be like old times again."


Oh yes. Illyana was definitely mercurical - from denial to anger to bargaining all in the space of a second. All they needed now was pouting, and then finally acceptance.

"Hardly a fair trade," Doug replies, wrinkling his nose and turning his attention back to his tablet, hmming at the story. "Besides, haven't you outgrown that yet, or do you expect me to keep doing this for the rest of my life? Because if you did, I got to tell you, I already died, so you can't just expect me to start up again."



"Doug, lets think about who we're talking about here." Illyana begins, clearly showing she has not outgrown anything, not if it gets her what she wants.

As for his remark about his own death, she can't help but close down slightly as she considers the other blond. With a faint snort, she finally says, "Yes, I do recall you died. I don't think many people would forget that particular adventure." And the word adventure all but drips with sarcasm at this point.

Still, Illyana does come back with, "But yes, I do expect that of you. Think of all the years you missed it. You owe me some back pay now." Only Illy could apply that convoluted sort of logic to the situation. "So, up and at em."



"You also owe me some -vacation time-," Doug rejoins, swiping the screen to turn to the next page, his body language reading in that 'I'm paying attention, but not hearing the magic words' way.

For whatever reason, ever since they'd met for the first time when younger, Illyana had essentially appointed herself Doug's protector in the training classes. Unfortunately, this also had come with certain expectation - Illyana Rasputin had a certain feudal approach to her charges. She protected them; in turn, she expected her whims carried out or indulged.

And well, given her -looks- at an impressionable age, Doug had been all too eager to deal.

Now?

Body Language: Unimpressed. And Illyana -had- to recognize that particular pose; she'd used it on Doug often enough when he'd gone off on one of those Star Wars rants ('What's that? Oh... you know, the Empire was totally -right-...' 'Illy, you're a (censored)'...)



Blue eyes narrow as she considers Doug's rather familiar pose. Familiar in the sense that she usually uses it on him, and typically it would work! His defiant attitude is enough that it causes her to settle a hand on her hip as she considers her next move. It's like the two play chess of sorts, each trying to capture the others queen, as it were. Strategy, it's all about strategy.

"I see I've been away too long, haven't I?" She muses before she snaps her fingers and a portal opens beneath a few of the package. Quickly they're whisked out of sight and then moments later, a new portal reopens, but this time it's no where near Illyana.

Instead Doug will find the portal dropping the packages towards him and his seat, as Illyana intones sweetly, "Here let me remind you how it works."



The teleportation portal drops onto him and his seat, and Doug's tablet is quickly tumbled to the ground, as he catches the bags, his SHIELD-trained reflexes at least standing him in good steed as he regards Illyana. Tsk. She -really- was about the same as ever.

Lips twists into an unwilling smile, before Doug shakes his head. "You know, for all your sorcery, you still haven't figured out the magic word?" the young mutant asks with an arched eyebrow, his posture shifting to display confidence. He wasn't fifteen anymore, and she wasn't the boss of him anymore. And he's only too happy to face off, chin lifting, staring back at her with that -look- that indicates he wasn't backing down.

Anyone in the lounge who's well aware of Illyana Rasputin starts clearing out, other than Doug Ramsey. And only the brave, or foolish, would remain...


Quentin Quire comes downstairs with a slight spring in his step, clad in a pair of dark purple cargo pants, including a few jangling chains, low enough to show a hint of his underwear. His t-shirt is black and has a fake nametag on the breast, reading "Hi, my name is FUCK YOU". He has Wicked's slender fingers in one hand, pulling the gothic girl behind him and back out onto the grounds, "C'mon, there's gotta be a bush somewhere that isn't - oh," he says, turning around to find Doug and Illyana. S'what he gets for not psi-scanning ahead. Doug he knows from the faculty, although Illyana's new to him, "Yo. Uh...sup?"


Tripping along behind Quentin, Wicked wears a pair of thickly soled black sneakers, today, her thin legs encased in black leggings that reach just below her bony knees, and a super-baggy (on her) black, long-sleeved t-shirt that has an arcane symbol in white print. Her hair is super straight, today, looking like black liquid split in the middle, and it emphasizes just how painfully thin she is. Her makeup is as subdued as it gets... no lipstick, but clear gloss, her eyebrows and eyeliner done. She looks rather sickly pale, but she has a small smile on her face as she almost trips over herself to keep up with her enthusiastic boyfriend. When he pulls up short, she bumps into him--and nearly falls, but her ghosts catch her before she does, and shift her upright. She nervously tucks her hair behind her tiny, elfin ears and smiles shyly, "...Hi."


When Doug catches the bags, Illyana can't help but snort, "At least you're quicker now and have learned to catch the bags." And then, then she's tapping a fingernail against her lips. "The magic word." She says thoughtfully, as she considers Doug and the bags, "Oh wait, yes, I know what it is. /Now/."

Any sort of psi-scan would show Illyana's mind as completely closed off currently.

And while it may seem the two are truly having a spat, they really aren't. This is how the two have always interacted, a very push and pull relationship. With Illyana doing most of the pushing and pulling to poor Doug. At the new voices, Illyana can't help but flick her blue eyes towards the new arrivals. While some might eye the pink hair upon the young man, Illyana instead focuses upon his name tag. Her lips quirk upward as she reads what it says, "Nice." And while she could have said more it's the ghost like blobs that now snag her attention. Her head cants to the side as she considers the spirits around the girl.

And with Illyana being so distracted by the appearance of the two students (and the spirits), the portal that hangs above Douglas' head continues to stay open and from the depths of said portal, two small roly-poly demons (no larger than a fist) plop downward toward the male blond.



The pushing and pulling used to be fairly one-sided, on account of Illyana being a -Girl- and Doug being an accomodating person when it came to people of the female persuasion.

Doug had grown up, though, and the time spent with SHIELD had essentially made sure that when there was pushing, Doug would simply push back, as he shows when he replies with a "That wasn't the magic word..." in a sing-song fashion.

Doug's wide grin as he sings at Illyana fades as he sees the two new students enter, replaced with an accomodating smile, body language shifting to communicate a welcoming gesture. "Hi, Quentin... Wicked." Tsk, he really had to ask why there were no name in the records at some point, but there had been some warnings to tread carefully with these teenagers. "Anything I can do for you?" The bags, which likely doesn't go unnoticed by Illyana, are simply put to the side as Doug turns his attention to the students.

And so, yes, that means he gets his just rewards for failing to pay attention to the demanding demoness, as the roly poly demons tumble onto him, totally ruining the body language effect he was going for as a welcoming teacher into a total young man flinging these smelly pooches -far- away from him before they started slobbering hellstink on him.


Kid Omega is more than happy to see Doug's air of authority properly spoiled by demonic means (or any other, really). He pulls Wicked farther out to stand next to him, though, his expression turning from wary to amused. Anyone who gets Professor Ramsey to start flailing in that way has certainly earned points with him, "Uhhhhhhh...I dunno. Do that again, though, maybe I'll think of something. It's very inspirational. You ever think of doing Dancing with the Stars, teach? You've gotta be almost as famous as a real Housewife or somethin', right?" he chuckles.


Though Quentin is relaxed by the cute little hellspawn tumbling out of the portal and the subsequent flailing of Professor Ramsey, Wicked still looks quite ill at ease when her boyfriend tugs her out from behind him. She dips her chin to her chest and scoots back behind him a bit, one small, bony hand knotting into a fist with some of the back of his shirt. Her Frighteners, her precious ghosties, can sense just how distressed she is to see adults...even when one is comedically teased by another... And, they hover around her, the air of their body language concerned, soothing, placating, and protective. Though there are only two people physically present, with the ghosts, it looks more like a small group of people. "...sndjfsd.." Wicked mumbles, and it's not really clear to anyone what she says.



Looking away from the spirits, Illyana can't help the amused snort that can be heard from her, at Quentin's words. Shifting her amused gaze to Doug, Illyana says, "I like him." And then, "And Doug could be on Dancing with the Stars. We all took dancing when were students here at the school. In fact, if I do recall correctly, we all wore tights as well." Her smile is as amused as ever as she focuses back on Doug. She will never tire of tweaking him, ever. Even if he doesn't react as he once did, when he was young and oh so stupid.

Then, turning back to Wicked, Illyana says, "What an interesting entourage you have there." And while Illyana could potentially ask more or rather pry more into it, she doesn't. Whether it's because she received the memo, or perhaps more because she can identify the fragility that seems to surround the girl, Illy simply leaves her be.

The hellspawn, however, have other ideas than going quietly into the night for as soon as they're batted away by Doug and land, they immediately hiss showing a mouthful of tiny sharp teeth. Illyana simply drops her gaze to them and clicks her teeth towards the two little red critters. They immediately whip around and scurry over to the demoness.



Being ready to demonstrate just how much his ability to 'communicate' worked on the hellspawn, with SHIELD training, Doug eases off slowly, before returning a confident smirk. "Why, Illyana, don't tell me you didn't enjoy our last dance?"

His attention turns back towards the students, taking a read off the ghosts, faintly surprised he could get a sense of what they were thinking.

Blue eyes shift towards Quentin, then back towards Wicked. "Um, anyway, there anything I can do for you?" Odd, he thought the girl had more self-assurance than this from her dossier, but then again, he might have misread it.

And then Doug adds, "Don't mind her. She's just jealous I looked better in them than she did." Which totally is meant to tweak Illy's vanity.


Kid Omega lets Wicked shield herself with him as she likes, giving a nod to Illyana at the acknowledgement, one troublemaker to another. "I bet you did," he grins crookedly at Doug, "Whenever I see you, I think 'frilly'. Never knew why, but now it's all totally clear to me," he laughs. The demons he regards with cool interest. He probably doesn't think of them as actual demons, more like manifestations. Despite having a girlfriend swathed in ghosts, he still had a habit of looking at the supernatural with a rather cool, skeptical eye, "Frisky little nippers," he says.


The compliment from Illyana on the Frighteners seems to warm Wicked's initial hesitance. She's not leaping out from behind Quentin, or anything, but she smiles and says, "Thanks. We like your little chubby monsters." We. As in, she and the Frighteners. She certainly seems to consider them a part of her, and vice versa, based on that comment and the way in which she and they interact.

As for Doug... He can tell a bit more easily, now, that what he's reading off of Wicked's body language isn't fear...it's distrust. In her file, Professor Xavier likely wrote of her that she is quite a sassy, spunky sort of girl--if a bit off-kilter as a result of her experiences--when she is /comfortable./ When she feels that she is unsafe, she tends to rely heavily on her Frighteners and whomever else she trusts.

At Quentin's elbow, she wraps her arms around his arm and bites his shirt, giggling at the comment about 'frisky little nippers.' It's not the first time he's used such a comment, though in quite a different setting.


At Doug's mention of their last dance, Illyana's eyes narrow slightly somewhat dangerously. Ignoring the blond boy now, Illyana simply leans down to retrieve her pets. She'll handle the roly-poly demons easily, as she transfers them to the crook of her arm. Almost like cats, they nuzzle against her arm, which causes the demoness to shake her head slightly.

Omega's descriptions of her demons earns a faint smirk, as she cants her head to the side, "Yes, that's one way to describe them." And while she could say more, it's Wicked's words that cause the blonde woman to focus upon the thin girl once more. "They are chubby, aren't they?" Her gaze is darkly thoughtful, before she turns that blue eyed gaze upon Doug. She has no words for him, but he should know her well enough to read the message within their depths.

Turning back towards Wicked, Illyana asks, "Do they have names?" Unlike Doug, Illyana doesn't necessarily read the files that float around Xavier's. She's neither student, nor teacher, but she's definitely part of the school in some sense of the word as a former alumni.


"She -wishes- I were doing frilly," Doug grins, seemingly unruffled. He'd taken his share of teasing over the matter years ago, and at the least, the girls seemed more impressed that he could actually -dance-.

The distrust off the ghosts and the girl, on the other hand, has Doug nodding briefly. Not pushing the issue, just leaving it be, and letting her ease her way as she liked.

INstead, he shifts his attention and inclines his head. "Wicked," he says regarding the girl with the ghosts, sparing her the effort. As to the other, well, he can introduce himself just fine. "This is Illyana Rasputin. I'm Doug Ramsey." And then he arches his eyebrow at Kid Omega to let him introduce himself, since from what he could remember, the kid well would be all too happy to do so.

Illyana's message is received with a return look that basically goes 'Yes, you -would- know...'


Kid Omega makes a flourish and a playful half-bow, his colorful hair flopping forward across his forehead, "Quentiin Quire, Kid Omega. If you're teachers, please tell me you have somethinig more than the eighth grade education the current instructors have. They're about two weeks away from being reduced to having us play Hangman and watching the Sound of Music..." he sighs. He puts his arm fully around Wicked, laying the girl's dark head on his shoulder, her hair falling across her face to obscuree it. "Don't worry, babe, I don't think the little devil monkeys are gonna start flingin' their feces around anytime soon. I think the Ravishing Russian there probably has 'em under control anyway," he says, easily reading Illyana's accent, no matter how well she's hidden it.



Wicked can't help but grin as Illy handles the little demons, and she nods at the question. "Just a bit, but it adds to their cuteness. Like how babies and chubby cheeks are slightly irresistable. It makes them seem a little less dangerous, though I'm sure they're plenty deadly." She, then, smiles to Illyana, nodding an affirmative to the question on whether or not her Frighteners have names. "They do. They're circumspect about sharing them, though. Names and power and all of that," she says. "I tend to use nicknames to refer to them, if I call them by anything. It just makes them more comfortable," she smiles up at one who's resting its head atop hers briefly.

To Doug, she smiles lightly, her body language reading a little less wary, but still slightly guarded. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm not sure how to address you, so I won't," she replies, tugging viciously at a handful of her lovely hair. Her head jerks along with the pulling, but there seems to be no real reason behind it that's easily read. Then, Quentin is pulling her head close to him, resting it on his shoulder and she smiles softly, her body seeming to relax as his hand cups her head. "Oh, I don't even want to think about what their poop is like, considering," she laughs softly.



Blue eyes narrow at Doug's not so subtle (at least to Illyana) message. While yes, she would know all about that, it's not nice to point such things out. EVEN if it's completely true. A blonde brow quirks upward at the blond boy - it simply reads; just you wait until we're alone.

It's however at Quentin's turn of phrase that Illyana actually laughs a brief sound aloud. "Where did we find you? And you've a good ear, as for their poo, no they won't fling anything unless I tell them to. I won't, at least, for now."

Wicked's words earn a faint smile, "You're smart to realize that. Names do have power. Best to keep them close at hand and out of enemy hands." One last glance is given to the specters, before Yana shakes her head, "I don't think I've ever had my demons compared to babies, but I suppose I can see it. The whole ugly is cute thing. As for how to address Doug, you should go with Dougie, or Doggie, or even the dreaded /Douglas/. That's some of what I typically use." She smiles, showing a lot of teeth towards Doug. "Or Dougster. Hm, what other nicknames have I given you over the years?"


Blithely ignoring that -expression- with a 'promises, promises' expression of boredom which is infuriatingly like the times Illyana's responded to other people's threats, Doug grins at the younger girl. "Oh they're deadly, all right... or at least, Illy's pooches pack a hell of an odor," Doug grimaces, in just -that- way that one gets when one is talking about dog poop.

Inclining his head to Wicked, Doug smiles. "Well you can call me Doug anytime. If you ever show up in my classes, though, you can just call me Mr. Ramsey. Ignore whatever she's about to tell... right, thank you, oh, ravishing russian." Face, meet palm. Inching his hand up to run it through his hair, Doug jerks a thumb towards Illyana, regarding Quentin. "As for you, well... my classes basically is asking you to look at computer games, figure out where the logic errors are, and then dares you to fix them. Interesting enough?"



Quentin slides his hand up underneath Wicked's hair, squeezing the back of her neck. It's as much a reminder of her not to pull her hair as it is a comfortiing gesture, trying to make her feel secure and at ease to keep her metaphorical demons at bay, even as literal ones scamper around the place. "Oh, they found me where you might expect: jail. S'where all the cool kids are goin' these days. Y'know, free food, exercise, the sense of impending dread and wasted youth, the smell of industrial chlorine, falling asleep to the gentle rhythms of chronic masturbation...I think everyone will be summering there soon," he says.

To Doug, he responds, "That probably depends on the games and the logic involved, but it's at least the sparkling inkling of a potential winner. I hope you don't have to tone it down too much for the mouth-breathers," he sighs.


Wicked's pale hazel eyes seem to almost glow--whether it's the artful, expert way she's done her dark, gothic eye makeup, or something mystical...is hard for most to tell. Illyana, of course, can sense that it's a bit of both. When the pretty blonde young woman compliments her intelligence on keeping power a secret, she lifts a bony shoulder in an 'aw shucks' kind of gesture. "The Beyond sees fit to teach me things that keep me safe, sometimes," she says, referring to her particular field of prowess--which may or may not be its technical name. It's simply what she's come to understand it to be, and how she's termed it.

"Doug..." she tries it out, softly. "Illyana.." She nods and smiles, as though she's committed them to memory. "Your class certainly sounds interesting, Doug, though I'm one of those mouth breathers QQ refers to, I'm afraid," she grins lopsidedly, trying to resist the urge to pull her hair, again, with her boyfriend's gentle hand at her neck. "General knowledge doesn't seem to be a strong suit of mine. It's like my brain decides to make room for other, less common things," she offers, trying not to appear as though she's beating herself up for her lack of book smarts.



At the vague feeling of magic, Illyana's head tilts ever so slightly to the side, as she considers Wicked again. Interesting. She's definitely a puzzle to be investigate further. However, Illyana's expression lightens as Doug mentions her demon frog dogs, "Shall I call them here for you? They do so miss their walkies with you, Doug." Yes, she just used the word 'walkies'.

The roly poly demons offer faint little hisses and trills of laughter, obviously showing more intelligence than what their size belays.

Quentin's words garner another snort of amusement from Illyana, "Crude, but amusing. Give yourself a few years and those quips will come out much more polished and zing much more artfully." Much like Illyana's has.

"Hmm. I don't think you're a mouth breather, Wicked. It's just that Doug's classes are bo-r-ing." Her head falls dramatically backward as she issues fake snoring sounds. "So boring." She'll tilt her head enough to look at Doug with a grin. "You know I could probably teach a class. What do you think, Dougie? I'm thinking survival. It'll be fun."


"Oh, the idea was basically to have people working together to find bugs and have fun doing it," Doug notes. "It -is- software engineering after all..." Tilting his head, Doug regards Wicked curiously. "So it's not like you need -knowledge- as much as you need intuition, analysis, and teamwork." Which, naturally, was a lot of software analysis, testing, and designing. "So yes, I like to think it has promise... even if you're not really interested in a field of computers, at the least, you'll have an understanding of how to work with other people int he process."

Arching an eyebrow, Doug regards the demon frogs. "Not necessary, unless you'd like to introduce them to our friends here. I think Wicked's friends might have some fun."

Running a hand through his hair, Doug just rolls his eyes. "You find -everything- boring unless it's about you... and no, I don't think survival's a good idea. Considering what happened to Jocelyn the -last- time you tried it..."


Quentin's brow furrows as Wicked lumps herself in with the mouth-breathers, "Uh uh, not a bit of that, Ghost Girl," he says, toying with his own personal codename for Wicked, "You're plenty smart, you've just got different interests. Trust me, I can sense how large your intellect is, it's just that a lot of it's occupied with otherworldly stuff. For obvious reasons," he says. It'd odd when Quentin addresses Wicked, only because he's so different with her. Warm. Encouraging.

To Illyana, though, he raises an eyebrow, "I'm sorry my insults don't quite meet your lofty standards. Give me time, I'll learn all the necessary details to make my humiliations properly targeted," he says. To Doug, he adds, "I have some interest in computers, although if that girl who talks to machines is in your class, I'll probably spend most of the period with my headphones on so I don't make her start speaking Elvish..."



Wicked leans against Quentin as the conversation goes on, feeling slightly restless, for some reason. Her eyes start to wander as her mind does. She's not intending to be rude, but she's constantly under the cloying attention of spirits who want her to help them, speak with with them, do things for them, give them a taste of what it's like to live, again. Her ghosts bobble around her companionably as she hums to herself and glances around. She seems to be paying attention to something, someone, nodding her head and shaking it at various points. She mumbles every now and then, twitching a little and biting at the meat of her palm.



A faint moue appears upon Illyana's features when Doug mentions Jocelyn, "She survived, didn't she? No permanent damage and she's stronger for it too."

And while Illyana would normally offer a retort to Quentin's words, instead, the blonde demoness' attention is caught by Wicked again, and her unusual behavior.

Stretching her senses out, Illyana will see if she can sense anything from the ghosts. Even the demons quiet somewhat, as they sense their mistress reaching out with her otherworldly gifts. "What do they say?" She'll ask Wicked quite unashamedly in her curiosity. It's not a wonder why Illyana is /not/ a teacher, unlike Doug.



"Don't worry about meeting her standards," Doug comments with a shrug, motioning to Illyana. "Nobody can." Canting his head, Doug shakes his head. "I'm not going to worry about it." Especially since she'd just yell at him one way or another.

Pausing as Wicked goes into her... trance, for lack of a better word, Doug looks over at Quentin. "Ummm..." Not wanting to put it in verbal words, he shifts to using body language in a way as to inquire to Quentin what was going on...?



Kid Omega can read the concern on Doug's face, as well as Illyana's. Instinctively, he puts a psychic shield over her, just to keep any prying eyes out. He doens't fully know the capabilities of these older mutants, but he wants her privacy protocted, "She's fine," he says, "Just communing. She does that sometimes." he says, "Do you want to go upstairs, maybe? We can get Beetlejuice off Netflix..."


Wicked's eyes roll back in her head briefly, the whites showing as her head jerks to one side, and she makes a strange sort of inhaling groan. Though, softly, as though she's trying not to interrupt conversation. She, apparently, isn't aware that she's halted the conversation with her behavior. From somewhere through the fog of the Beyond, she hears Illyana asking, "...do they say?" She turns her head in Illyana's direction and her body jerks a bit. "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmagneto," she intones in a strange voice--sounding like a chorus of a million voices in sync. "J..j--j... Genoooooossssssssssssha," she twitches.

Then, Quentin's shields cradle her psychically, so she can't be poked or prodded whilst in the middle of clairvoyance. She gasps for air. She sounds more like herself when she speaks this time, "Too muddled. Time isn't right. That's all..." At the sound of Quentin's voice, she seems to snap out of it and her eyes roll back to the fore, "Beetlejuice sounds /good,/" she beams. To the other two, she smiles, "It was really nice meeting you. I'm sure I'll see you, again, soon. Sorry for being weird."


Illyana simply listens and watches the episode, and when Wicked becomes her 'normal' self, the demoness will shrug. "Weird is our middle name here. Don't fret about it."

It's only after two have left that Illyana will turn toward Doug. "Interesting. I wonder if we should look up Genosha and Magneto and see what's going on." The roly poly demons will be dropped into a small circular portal, as Yana adds, "Think I'm going to see what I can see through my crystal. You're coming too."

And with her words, Illyana opens two larger portals to swallow herself and her former teammates. "Lets see what we can see."

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